What's that noise? Oh, it's just Stewart's black lab, Sammy, who is supposed to be a secret that is not so secretive at all. The landlord is never the wiser because he sleeps until early afternoon everyday to ease the hangover from the night before. If he ever asks about the noise, everyone acts like they have no idea what he is talking about. Stewart is one of the nicest human beings I know. He is actually human which has become a plus instead of a basic nowadays. Every evening, I pack up all of my scraps from dinner and slip the little doggie bag into the small door for Sammy that is cut out of the Stewart-sized door opening up into the apartment. When I see him around, he returns a friendly grin and sometimes licks me which lets me know that I can make someone happy, even a male. It doesn't matter that he can't talk or that he will eat anything. On a bad day when I feel like I do no good in the world whatsoever, I can rely on the fact that he regards me as a friend who always brightens his day.
When I open my eyes I realize that my face is stuck to my still blank canvas. I rub my face and look up at the clock and notice that it is almost eleven o' clock. I jump up and trip into my room, look for something to wear that doesn't look like pajamas, run my fingers through my hair, and grab my handbag. "Thank goodness I don't live far from my work," I thought. I'm still super late, but maybe she'll understand because it is after all a Monday.
I run down the flights of stairs in my building and down the street to the bakery where I work. Passers-by look upon me with looks of confusion and drivers with looks of grief at my darting across the street. Out of breath I apologize over and over to my coworkers and snatch my apron off of the wall.
"You are in desperate need of an alarm clock you know." My best friend Julie says.
Julie is a fun, reckless type of girl who balances out my usually calm and rational behavior. This morning her curly, strawberry blonde hair was up in a loose ponytail and she was popping her chewing gum while writing an order down.
"I know. I was up trying to make myself work on another piece. I had the idea right up here, but I just couldn't get it out. I'm loosing my creative juices. They are draining away from me and I can't stop them." I said.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't get all depressed on me. It's already a Monday. Maybe you just need to go out and have some fun. Get some inspiration. Maybe go on a date, God forbid." She rants as she winks at me.
I give her a smirk letting her know that I am too tired to talk anymore about the issues I know that are true, but don't want to admit.
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